Claustrophobia
by Infusiion
Summary: Her heart pounded, like a hare caught in the claws of a mountain lion. It was intoxicating, this feeling of taboo.


Here I am, with another Harry Potter fic (well, my second). I'm not sure how much I like it, but a general Draco/Hermione muse has been floating around in my head for the past week, and when I sat at my keyboard today this was the result. Hope it's not too OOC for you guys. :)

I should also mention that this is based on movie canon - it's been a couple years since I read the Half Blood Prince.

Takes place after Harry comforts Hermione outside the Gryffindor tower, where Lavender first hooks up with Ron. Enjoy!

* * *

There were nights when the turn of the earth, the very passing of seconds, pressed on her like the ocean, cold and suffocating. This night, held tightly in Harry's embrace as she wept, was one of them. She could feel her heart doubling its beat, desperate for space, and air, and timelessness.

She pushed away from him, gentle but firm.

"What's wrong?" He looked concerned, but sympathetic. He would understand, if only partly.

"I just need some space. I think I'll go for a walk." She stood, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater.

Harry nodded from his place on the step, making it clear he knew was staying put.

"My cloak is on my bed, help yourself." She just smiled, more for his benefit than hers. She loved him fiercely at times like this.

As her feet carried her numbly to the Gryffindor tower, she desperately fought a new wave of tears that threatened to crash. She passed the corridor Ron and Lavender had run down, swallowing the hot bitterness that rose like bile. It was hard, feeling so much. The boys assumed because she was always so insightful about others' emotional problems that she carried none of her own. On the contrary; the insight meant she not only experienced the same problems, but she could see the cause, the effect, the solution. It made her problems seem trivial and avoidable, and this added to her despair.

_Case in point_, she thought as she climbed through the common room entrance, _Ron's indifference is depressing. It's depressing because I love him. I haven't told him, and now he's with Lavender. _

Pushing thoughts of the couple from her mind, Hermione crept up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory. Sure enough, Harry's invisibility cloak was folded neatly on his bed, camouflaged among fresh robes and socks. She grabbed it and let the smooth, cool material cascade from her head to her toes, breathing a sigh of relief as she became hidden from the world.

The dormitory was small, cramped with beds and trunks and the odd sleeping form. She felt claustrophobia creeping up on her again, felt her lungs burn for air.

The aurors were positioned at every entrance to the castle, and while Harry's cloak would fool any wandering teachers or students, she wasn't about to attempt to pass the trained dark wizard catchers. So she settled for the next best thing: the astronomy tower.

One of their favourite haunts, the astronomy tower was the highest room students could access, though at this time of night it was too cold for those undeterred by curfew. Hermione relished the thought of the ice cold air, and the endless night sky. She moved with purpose on her step, knowing she could be alone with her thoughts without being crushed.

At least, she expected to be alone.

Reaching the top of the spiral staircase, she slid to a halt on the icy ground, moments before colliding with a tall, black-clad body. She couldn't believe her luck tonight. First, Ron stomps all over her heart, and now Malfoy ruins her only chance at an escape from her despair. She opened her mouth to protest, and stops before the breath can leave her lips.

She was invisible, wasn't she? Malfoy's silver head whipped around at the sound of her feet, but he seemed to disregard it rather quickly, turning back to gaze out over the castle grounds. Feeling stubborn and bold, she took her usual place, which happened to be two feet away from him, and leaned on the frozen railing. There were no real walls up here, just large archways cut out of the stone, which allowed uninterrupted views of the universe, and all manner of weather to penetrate. The icy metal was a shock to her skin, but Hermione just smiled, and felt.

She felt the snow-laden wind bite her face, hardly deterred by the thin magical material of her cloak. She felt her lungs burn as she breathed it in. She felt the cold slightly abated to her left, blocked by the body of her sworn enemy. She felt safe, perched behind a rattling barrier in the highest tower of the school, and the anonymity of being completely invisible. Not even Harry knew where she was, and Malfoy was unaware he was standing so close to a filthy-blooded individual such as herself. For the first time that night, Hermione felt weightless.

"I know you're there." She heard Malfoy murmur. "I can hear you breathing."

She looked at him, startled, but found he hadn't moved. His face was empty, void of his usual scowl. Void of anything. He looked drawn and grey, like a ghost. Hermione had scarcely run into him that year, and truthfully she'd forgotten he existed. He melted into the background of the castle, and if he was causing trouble it wasn't with her trio.

_It's about time he learns to grow up, _she thought to herself hotly. But she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of sympathy for him now. It didn't seem right, but his slumped figure and lifeless face begged for nothing else.

He was speaking again, his voice coarse and bitter. "I don't know who you are, but if you're here to play some kind of prank, just get it over with. I don't have time for your shit."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Always so charming, Malfoy."

He bolted upright, whipping out his wand and pointing it in her direction. She sighed and let the cloak fall off her shoulders, glaring up at him through her eyelashes, wand also at the ready.

"Looks to me like you've got all the time in the world."

"Granger." He spat. "What are you doing here?"

"I happen to enjoy it up here. This may come as a shock, but the world doesn't revolve around you."

He turned up his nose and stared her down, his wand lowering just slightly. When she didn't back down he returned to his position leaning on the rail, though his wand remained in his hand.

"I don't." He muttered, as if he didn't care whether she heard or not.

"What?"

"I don't have all the time in the world."

Hermione considered a few choice retorts, but chose to keep her mouth shut. This wasn't the Malfoy she knew.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I like to come up here." He growled, a hint of a warning in his tone.

Hermione, more surprised that he was yet to try and banish her from the tower himself, just nodded. "It's a good place to think."

He snorted, glancing sideways at her. "Don't you do that enough during the day?"

She scowled, jabbing her wand in his direction. "There's no need to be an ass Malfoy. You seem to know exactly what I mean. What could the precious Prince of Slytherin have to think about? What first years to torture next?"

To her surprise, he remained silent, but his expression became thunderous. Suddenly, she feared him more than she ever had.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so rude, at least until you've started it." She whispered, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She was uncomfortable in his presence, yet the thought of retreating back down the staircase was very difficult. It was unnerving, sympathising with the enemy.

The silence stretched on between them for what seemed like hours. Hermione had almost lost herself in her thoughts when she noticed Malfoy was trembling beside her. It was indeed very cold, and getting colder the longer she stood still, but she was wearing more weather-appropriate attire than Malfoy, in his black suit jacket and pants.

"Do you need to go back inside?" She asked tentatively, not wanting to sound like the overbearing mother that Ron told her she often did.

He shook his head, jamming his wand back in his pocket so he could bury his hands inside his jacket. Hermione figured she should do the same, as she felt certain he presented no danger. But before she did, she had an idea. Uttering a small spell under her breath, she pointed her wand at the railing between them, where a small fire erupted. The heat was small, but the enchanted flames burned strong in the wind.

Malfoy glanced at the fire briefly, and Hermione saw moisture glisten on his cheek. Horrified, she looked straight ahead at the black depths of the lake, not wanting him to see her looking. She felt sobered, and unsure of what to say. If she should talk at all.

"Again, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about tonight." The growl was lost, but the warning in his voice remained the same.

Hermione nodded once again, and chanced a look at his face. He was staring at her unabashedly, daring her to point out the tears that were frosting on his cheeks. The fire cast its reflection in the silver of his eyes, and in it she found a sudden moment of clarity.

"I'm sorry." She said gently but without pity, holding his gaze. "This war is hard for all of us."

Something unidentifiable flashed across Malfoy's eyes, and he cast his head back down. "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what lays ahead of me."

Hermione shrugged. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

Suddenly Malfoy's arm struck out to his side, extinguishing the fire. Hermione jumped back, almost slipping on the icy stones.

"Nor do you!" He spat, gripping the rail with white knuckles. "You should kill me. You should throw me off this tower. Now!"

Hermione was stunned, and tears pricked her eyes. She was shaking with fear, but not for her safety. She feared the darkness that settled in Malfoy's eyes, and she feared the desperation in his voice.

It was very cold. Her fingers were numb as they reached for his shoulder, where they gripped the frost-rimed material. He didn't try to shrug her away, he just seemed to retreat into himself. The trembling started again, and Hermione suddenly felt bold. She stepped closer, running her hand across his back to his other shoulder, and bringing her free arm across his chest. She held her breath, waiting for him to lash out, but nothing happened. His hands remained clamped on the railing in front of him, but his eyes were closed. Hermione was close enough to count the ice crystals that had gathered on his pale eyelashes, and see the cracks in his white lips.

After a few moments he seemed to stop trembling. Hermione looked up to see him staring down at her, his face unreadable. His hot breath mingled with hers, creating a cloud of mist between their mouths. He leaned ever so slightly closer, breathing her in like she was oxygen. Her heart pounded, like a hare caught in the claws of a mountain lion. It was intoxicating, this feeling of taboo.

Then his lips were on hers, cold and chapped and raw against her softness. The kiss was brief, but when he pulled away some blood had returned to his face. Hermione felt it was her cue to drop her arms and step back, pulling Harry's cloak up from the floor. Malfoy watched her for a moment, before stepping away from the railing, and straightening his coat.

"You're still a filthy Mudblood." He said, his face firm but his voice soft.

"You're still a foul, insufferable jerk." She countered, scowling at him.

For the first time she could recall, Malfoy smiled.


End file.
